


Silver Lion

by gatheredfates (seafaringheart)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafaringheart/pseuds/gatheredfates
Summary: [au] In the wake of Sylvanas' disappearance and other 'failings' of the young High King, Tess Greymane makes the choice of betraying her family and - by extension - her people to rescue and protect Anduin from those who would maim, kill or control him.
Relationships: Tess Greymane & Anduin Wrynn, Tess Greymane/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Silver Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This fanfiction is honestly a long time coming, so it's better late than never! Set in a post BFA verse, I've always wanted to explore Alliance in-fighting and conflicts because I feel like there's too much focus on them being the 'good' guys and not a lot on what might happen if those pre-established bonds of democracy and hierarchy fail. What better way to do that than through my favorite lesser-known character and ship?
> 
> I don't promise this will be updated frequently and I also don't have a solid idea of where I am going with it. That's what you're signing up for. Enjoy!

SILVER LION _  
Should I just leave it alone? I can't; won't decide.  
_ _Should I just walk in your fire **silver lion?**_

**Gilneas, before the fall.**

The roar of the ocean crashed against the obsidian rock, its spray staining the wood of the old watchtower as the storm lashed stony shores. Its foundations creaked and groaned – staunch, if not complaintive – and the wind that whistled through the cracks caused the young princess to tighten a hold against her cloak and quicken her pace on the steps.

Gilneas, much like the tower, was old. Old things – the ones that did not die and decay – often became weathered and hard; they stood unrelenting against the elements, becoming complacent in the same. They did not like change. The gale was merely wind, the downpour little more than rain, and the prince who paced within not unlike the dozens who had come before him. Which was rather ironic considering he was often the proprietor of change but was that to be expected as well?

Her ascension paused at the threshold between stair and observatory, where the equally old door betrayed a desire for privacy. Her hand extended and withdrew. Extended. Withdrew. She paused for a few moments and let her fingers rest on its surface.

There was a long draw of air into her lungs. A steeling of nerve. She pushed it open.

Even in the commotion of the weather the creak of her arrival was louder still, and it disturbed her brother from his contemplation. In those brief moments she saw him sitting by the edge; his arm resting on the ledge, his red hair billowing in the air and a deep scowl resting prominently on his sharp face. Yet, as he turned, the outrage morphed into alarm – a realisation that his retreat had not gone unnoticed, nor his absence.

“Tess, what in light’s name –” As she stepped inside the door slammed hard behind, a yelp leaving her as her hood came flying off her head and those wild curls of dark hair unfurled like coils of fire that reached for the deepest edges of the room. Liam rushed to his feet, both in alarm and concern, and as he reached for his hands to clasp around his shoulders the scold came without much thought. “You know what mum says about coming up here; you could get yourself killed.”

“You fought with father again,” her voice was matter of fact. At twelve summers old Tess’ tongue was quicker than a whip – so much so that, for a moment, Liam had to pause to fully process the sheer directness of her statement. He was not sure whether to laugh or sigh. He did the latter, even as he smiled and dipped his head in his admission.

“I did, yes.”

“Why?”

 _Why?_ Deep down Tess knew why. Because, even in her youth, she was astute, and servants and kitchen maids quickly forgot the perceptiveness of children when the lure of gossip was too hard to pass. She witnessed it in bundled papers people forgot she could read, in expressions the lordlings thought her too naïve to perceive, and in the echoes arguments that haunted the halls like ghosts. Gilneas was old and resistant to change. Liam craved it so. If not for him, for the people. _For_ Gilneas.

He did not word it so.

“Because –” His hand reached up to cup her cheeks and further still to her wild hair and as he mussed the tangles he spoke amongst his sister’s squealed protests, “Sometimes being a ruler – no – being a _good person,_ requires you to fight against one’s you love.”  
  


* * *

**Stormwind, in the aftermath.**

There was an ocean in Tess that pulled to two different tides: one in the present, and one in the past. The present was in the cold ache that throbbed through her limbs and encouraged by the tepid night air. The past was in how such a sensation could transport her into the past where her brother lay – to Gilneas, and to that conversation so many years ago.

She wondered what he might have thought of her now.

“You really should have told someone about this oversight.”

Tess could only snort, her gaze shifting down from the grooves in the cobblestone to her companion navigating in the night. For the uninitiated, Valeera looked less like protection and more like a threat; her burning fel-green eyes a betrayal of addiction and Horde influence beneath her hood; her lithe, athletic frame still at her prime even though Tess dared not try to wonder how old she might be; and her commentary about the Keep’s defences a dangerous eye into the tiny failings deep within the Alliance. Yet, as she climbed atop one of the castle’s many ornate lion sculptures, loosening the taut grip of her rope slack, she helped pull the other into place before pointing upwards to the higher towers.

“How do you propose I sneak in without it?”

Valeera rolled her eyes. Tess grinned and rolled her shoulder.

“What? I’m just asking.”

The elven woman said nothing in return but cast her gaze to the upper reaches where empty child’s quarters gave way to royal wings, and Tess realised in that moment what such a sight would mean to her. Broken crowns – or _Uncrowned_ , as they were aptly called – had thrust the two together, but in her freedom had come the death of someone near to the other. Varian’s fate she could not change. This one she might.

“It would be better if I go in first as to not completely alarm,” she concluded, glancing back to Tess who nodded once in return, “You’ve navigated the balcony?”

“Not the King’s, no – there’s a storage window not too far from here I’d sneak into when I was drunk. Surely the stone is strong enough?”

Valeera’s expression was dark but she did not protest as Tess handed her the rope. “Let us hope.”

She squinted, gauged her distance as her thumb tapped against the grappling hook and she threw.

Metal clambered against stone as the hook wrapped around one of the balcony pillars and the two women paused to listen for any notes of their discovery. None came. Theirs was a lonesome corridor of the Keep; one seldom patrolled for how heavily the outer ridges were, and one that required in-depth knowledge of its labyrinthian halls. One Tess discovered quite on accident when trying to scale to her own quarters.

Valeera tested her weight on the rope before wasting no time in climbing it. Tess lagged – both to keep a watchful gaze on any who might discover them, but also steel herself for what was to come.

 _‘Sometimes being a good person requires you to fight against the people you love.’_ What was once an allegory felt more a psalm – a guiding point of morality she’d chosen for the greater good – and though her mind had been made the moment Tess had found Valeera, she could not help but wish she needn’t make the choice.

The weight of her discovery was an anchor on a sinking ship. It pulled. It **_drowned_**.

Looping her hand around the rope she sighed, but she did not hesitate. Gritting her teeth to mask her grunt, she pulled herself up and began to climb.

“No, your highness, we must leave tonight –” Valeera’s urgings reached her ears the moment Tess pulled up to the balcony and she paused only to detach the grappling hook and thread the rest into a loose coil on her belt. The other voice inside sounded concerned – incredulous even.

“Surely this is a rouse? What of Genn and the others –”

“My father will kill you the moment he sees you,” Tess blandly replied. Valeera turned from her appeals to look at her, revealing the man sitting at the side of the large, royal bed. Young, strong and golden-haired; the epitome of the Alliance.

And when he looked at her – really looked at her – those blue eyes went wide.

“Lady Greymane.”

“Anduin,” she answered, seeing little need for the formalities. “We have to leave. Now.”

_It wants to enter my mind. I want to pretend._   
_Should I **just leave it alone?**_


End file.
